


Protection

by starlight_sugar



Series: The Easy Alliance [1]
Category: Easy Allies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: The Easy Alliance, L.A.'s premier team of part-time superheroes (and full-time do-gooders) is approached by a scientist with a simple request: keep her safe from the people trying to kill her. It is, of course, not as simple as it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some orders of business:
> 
> Firstly, this is a fictional story involving fictional likenesses of real people. Easy Allies (and Geek Bomb) do not have my permission to use any portion of my work in their content.
> 
> Secondly, this will be part of a series. The rest of the series is not complete, but I do have it all planned out and will post when I can. The series will deal with some thematically heavier stuff, which I will warn for when needed.
> 
> And lastly, I would not be here without a number of people, but I wanted to thank two in particular. Thank you, Noah, for introducing me to EZA and encouraging me to write the series. And thank you, Shawna, for taking the time to read not only the outline for a fic for a fandom that you don't know, but also my drafts and my panicked DMs about "what should I name this? does this work? what do I do?!?" and making this fic so, so much stronger. All my love to both of you.

There’s a widespread misconception about superheroism and grandeur that Brandon has been fighting against for the last dozen years of his life, give or take. It’s a cultural thing, so there’s no single responsible person, but somehow the general public has the complete wrong idea about what it means to be a superhero. He blames comic books. Batman is good in theory, but in the real world, there aren’t a lot of Bruce Waynes.

All of the stories about superheroes, even real superheroes, are these glamorous epics of right and wrong and fights for the fate of the world. Which is completely inaccurate, at least within Brandon’s experience. He’s only been in one or two fights that could’ve affected the fate of the world. He does good work, and so does the rest of his team, but there’s not a lot of physical combat involved. Heroism isn’t about the dramatics or the high stakes. Sometimes it’s just making sure that everything goes well for your neighbors.

So it’s fitting that the Easy Alliance’s headquarters are no Hall of Justice or mansion in Westchester. The team works out of a unit in a strip mall, three sublets with the walls between them knocked down. It’s a decent setup, mostly because it’s functional. They even keep regular hours, although they’re on call at all times. It’s part of the life of a superhero. Sometimes people need help outside of business hours.

When Brandon pulls into the strip mall parking lot, on a Tuesday when California summer is giving way to a windy California autumn, there’s someone waiting outside the door already. She fixes her eyes on him as soon as he gets out of the car, and he realizes immediately that this isn’t just a client. At least, not a regular civilian client.

“Can I help you?” he asks as he approaches. He puts on his friendliest smile for good measure, trying to put her at ease. This woman looks like she needs some ease; her shoulders are bowstring tight, and when she tries to smile back at him, it’s so brittle that he’s concerned that she’s going to hurt herself.

“Mr. Jones,” she says. Her voice is warm, even though it’s clipped, and she has an accent. He catches the edge of an accent; Australian, he’s pretty certain. “Or is it Captain?”

“Captain isn’t a formal title. Just Mr. Jones is fine, or Brandon.”

She nods, curtly, jerkily. “Mr. Jones, then. I understand that you’re in the business of protecting people.”

Protection. They don’t act as private security often, but sometimes it’s necessary. Brandon looks at this woman more closely, taking note of the way she’s white-knuckling her purse. She seems nervous. Only nervous people want bodyguards. “People who need it, yes.”

“I’m afraid I might need it. I can pay, of course, as much as you need-”

He shakes his head quickly. “Don’t worry about those details right now. We can discuss that once you’ve described your situation, Ms…”

“It’s Dr., actually.” She holds a hand out, and Brandon shakes it. She’s got a firm grip. She meets his eyes evenly. “Dr. Maude Garrett. I think somebody is trying to kill me.”

Brandon slowly raises his eyebrows. He drops her hand and reaches for his keys. “I think we’d better go inside, then.”

#

Group Message: The Alliance (for work only, come on, guys)

From: Jones (8:07 AM)  
We have a client asking for bodyguard protection and maybe arrangements for a safehouse - we’re meeting at 9:00 so we can interview and decide assignments.

From: Jones (8:08 AM)  
Definitely want Ben, Ian, and Kyle on this one. Everyone else, it’s up to your discretion. Respond ASAP

From: Ian (8:10 AM)  
copy that, captain

From: Kyle (8:29 AM)  
See you in half an hour

From: Ben (8:34 AM)  
Why do I get the feeling I’m the bodyguard?

From: Ian (8:35 AM)  
because you’re the best at it

From: Jones (8:37 AM)  
What she said

#

“How do you start a superhero team, anyways?” Maude asks, about ten minutes before the rest of the team is due to arrive. The two of them are in Brandon’s office, a tiny cube of space that only exists for the sake of a private space in the headquarters. There’s a desk, a calendar, and a chair where Maude is sitting, legs crossed and looking curiously up at him.

“There’s a lot of paperwork involved,” Brandon answers. “If you’re planning on doing any kind of heroic public service, you need to register your team with local government, and you’re required to have headquarters and paperwork for everyone on your team.”

“Whatever happened to the secret identity?”

“It can still be secret, all they need is a description of your powers and a physical description of you so they can identify you if you go rogue.”

Maude raises her eyebrows. “What about heroes without powers?”

“I wouldn’t know, everyone in the Alliance has some degree of power.”

“Including you?”

Brandon nods. “You know the breakdown, right?”

“Ninety-three percent of individuals won’t develop any kind of powers, and approximately seven percent will not be able to actively control the expression of their abilities,” Maude recites, almost like from a textbook. It probably is from a textbook, actually. “Less than one percent will develop significant enough powers to affect their daily lives, and this one percent makes up most of the heroic population.”

“But only most of it.” Brandon waves at her. “Hello from the seven percent.”

Maude stares. “Really?”

“I make computers run faster,” he explains. “It’s convenient, most of the time. Other than that, I’m just as normal as anyone.”

“Hm.” Maude tilts her head, considering. “So there are nine of you in the Alliance?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’ve all got powers, to some extent.”

“To some extent,” Brandon agrees.

“You’re not like most superhero teams.” Maude smiles, a little wry. “I was surprised when I realized you were in a shopping mall.”

“We’re where we need to be to do what we do.”

“And what exactly would you say it is that you do?”

Brandon shrugs. “Whatever people need.”

“But what do people need?”

“All sorts of things. I’ve been an extra babysitter at a kid’s birthday party, a chauffeur for visiting politicians.” He gestures at her. “Private bodyguard.”

Maude’s smile widens, just a touch. “And everything in between, I suppose.”

“That’s right.”

“But Mr. Jones-” she leans forward, eyes locked on his. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Brandon grins. “When I get to be a detective.”

Maude opens her mouth, but before she has the chance to answer, there’s a knock on the door. Maude immediately stiffens and sits upright in her chair, and it feels like something’s been drained out of the air.

Brandon glances at the door. “Yeah?”

The door opens, and Ian pokes her head in. “Hi, Cap’n. We’re all ready for the meeting.”

“Thanks, Ian, we’ll be out in a minute.” Ian closes the door again, and Brandon looks at Maude. “You ready to meet the team?”

“I suppose I have to be.” Maude stands up and glances curiously at him. “Why does she get to call you captain?”

“I couldn’t stop her if I tried.” Brandon opens the door and strides out into the bullpen, the bulk of headquarters. “Morning, everyone.”

“Morning, Jones,” Ian chirps brightly, which Ben echoes a second later. Kyle tips his Red Bull can in acknowledgement, and Blood nods at him.

“Don had to go to Funhaus today, but he said we can call if we need him,” Huber says. “Not sure about Damiani.”

Ian shakes her head. “He has that thing, remember? He’s in Kentucky or something for that conference-”

“Tennessee,” Ben says.

Ian snaps her fingers. “Tennessee! That’s it.”

“Well, thanks to everyone not in Tennessee for being here,” Brandon says. Everyone looks back at him and then, almost in unison, their eyes slide over his shoulder. He turns and sees Maude, hovering by the door to the office. “You can come on out, if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like,” she says, and takes a couple of tentative steps forward.

Brandon turns back to the team. “Everyone, this is Dr. Garrett-”

“Maude,” she interjects quickly, coming to stand by Brandon’s side.

“Maude,” Brandon amends. “She’s here today because she has concerns about her safety, which she’ll talk about in a minute. Maude, this is the rest of the Alliance.”

“I’m Ian,” Ian says. She’s nestled firmly on one side of the couch, looking determinedly comfortable. “I mean, we’re introducing ourselves, right?”

“You don’t have to,” Maude admits. “I’ve already looked you all up.”

Brandon lifts his eyebrows. That part is new information. “So you don’t need introductions?”

“I wanted to be very sure I was with people I could trust, so I found all of your records online.”

“Remind me to erase those,” Kyle mutters.

“I meant news articles, nothing personal.” Maude shakes her head. “We’re getting away from ourselves. I suppose you want a statement about why I need help?”

Brandon nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Maude takes a deep breath. “I’m a cognitive neuroscientist,” she begins. “I research how the physical structure of the brain relates to your ability to think. I’ve been working with McConnick Research and Development for the last nineteen months. Three months ago we were approached by an anonymous contractor who gave us a significant donation to research language-learning processes.”

“You accepted work from an anonymous contractor,” Brad says, tone just shy of disbelieving. “Without knowing anything about them?”

Maude smiles at him, thin-lipped. “It was a _very_ significant donation. Two weeks ago, the contractor and I had a disagreement that resulted in the end of my employment at McConnick. The rest of my colleagues kept working on the project.”

“Define ‘ran into a disagreement,’” Kyle says. “Was it a personal argument, a research thing, an ethical thing-”

“I can’t give any more information than that,” Maude says, a little sharply. “Non-disclosure agreements.”

Brandon frowns. “Are you sure there’s nothing that you can tell us? For your personal protection, it’d be best if we knew everything.”

“I signed my soul away to McConnick, unfortunately. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“All right.” Brandon nods. “Go on.”

Maude takes another deep, steadying breath. When she starts again, she speaks slowly, voice measured. “Eight days ago, I left my home for groceries and came back to find everything out of place and turned over. Nothing was stolen, so I didn’t feel the need to file a police report, but my life has been…difficult since then.”

Kyle leans forward. “Difficult how?”

“My electricity has been shutting on and off, almost always while I’m on the staircase. I keep finding gas leaks and my car engine keeps stalling.” She pauses. “And yesterday I was approached on the street by a stranger who informed me that I had three days to turn all of my research over to McConnick or else the consequences would be severe.”

“You think McConnick is threatening you,” Brandon guesses.

Maude shakes her head. “I think my contractor is threatening me through McConnick. I’m on good terms with Dr. McConnick. She was sorry to see me go, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She wouldn’t threaten me, or have anyone else do it.” She glances back at Brandon. “That’s all.”

“Thank you,” Brandon says. “So that’s what we’re working with here. The way I see it, we have two main goals: we need to stop whoever’s threatening Maude, and we need to find her somewhere safe in the meantime. Ian, you and I are going to start by looking into McConnick R&D and seeing what information we can find about the contractor.”

“When you say find...” Ian begins, eyes lighting up.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Brandon says, hoping she gets it. She must, because she leans back with a satisfied smirk. “Bosman, you’re in charge of finding somewhere safe. Check up on all the usual contacts, and if those don’t work, try the unusual ones. The safer, the better. Blood, I want you helping him, but first I need you to go to Maude’s house and debug it.”

“Copy that, Cap’n,” Kyle says. Blood nods at him.

“Ben, you’re going to be Maude’s primary bodyguard. Where she goes, you go.”

“But we’re probably not going anywhere,” Ben guesses.

“Not today. I’m gonna need you both to lay low until we can dig up a little more about this contractor.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Maude says, haltingly. “But why exactly is he guarding me?”

“Ben’s our go-to bodyguard,” Brandon explains. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

“I haven’t had a client complain yet,” Ben adds, smiling reassuringly.

“He’s our resident tough guy,” Ian adds, with a lazy smile. “He’ll keep you completely safe, don’t worry.”

“And not the one of you whose literal power is creating shields?” Maude’s eyes flick to Huber. “You have a strange way of doing business.”

“Strange, but effective. Which reminds me-” Brandon turns to Huber and Brad. “You two are in charge of usual business and minor clients, but you’re on deck if someone else needs you. Unless you’re actively preventing someone from dying, this case takes priority.”

“Gotcha,” Huber says. “Business as usual.”

Brandon glances back at Maude. “Ultimately, this is about your safety, so do you have any concerns about anything I just said?”

“None,” Maude answers. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Good. Bloodworth can talk to you about payment in a minute, and everyone else-” Brandon glances around the room. “Hop to it. Ian, be ready to leave in twenty.”

“I’m ready to leave now,” Ian answers, grinning. “Always love some good old-fashioned information-collecting. Traditional interviews.”

“I get the feeling you’re not going to be very traditional,” Maude says dryly.

Brandon shrugs. “We’re working out of a strip mall. Tradition isn’t necessarily our strong suit.”

“That it isn’t,” she concedes, and looks around the room. “Thank you all in advance. Really.”

“Of course,” Huber says immediately, and everyone else murmurs their agreement. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re in good hands here.”

“You know what?” Maude smiles, genuine and sparkling. “I do believe I am.”

#

“Maybe the research lab will appreciate you being there,” Ian suggests on the car ride to McConnick’s main Los Angeles facility. “You might make one of their machines do what it’s supposed to. You could be indirectly responsible for a breakthrough!”

Brandon glances at her sideways. “And the world would never know?”

“Well, it’s the science that matters. The greater good.”

“What if I fix something that isn’t for the greater good?”

Ian laughs. “Jones, I don’t think you could be responsible for that even if you were trying on purpose.”

“There’s not much I can do about it,” Brandon points out. They learned that one the hard way. The Alliance doesn’t go up against proper supervillains often, but it turns out that making computers run faster also applies to mind-control rays. He’d had to book it out before he subconsciously fixed the bad guy’s tech.

Definitions of the seven percent vary pretty widely, depending on who you ask, but his favorite definition has always been that seven percent of the population develop powers that they exude like an aura. They can’t actively control what they’re doing, and most of them never even realize that they magically never burn their fingers on their coffee cup, or that they always check their phone two seconds before they get a text message. They don’t realize that they have mild thermokinesis or a really mild form of precognition.

It took years after Brandon’s powers manifested for him to realize that he was in the seven percent. He remembers a distinct turning point when he was around twelve - the standard age for superpowers, not that it’d meant anything to him - and technology seemed to love him. It was mostly computers, but it extended sometimes. The TV signal never went out as long as he was watching, and the stove heated up faster if he was cooking. It took until he was sixteen to realize that the pattern was almost suspicious, and while he’s never had any formal testing, he tried enough experiments to figure it out. Watching old radios on their last legs sputter and search for a signal was proof enough for him.

Brandon’s magic, basically. At least, that’s what Ian says. It makes for a good conversation starter, apparently.

“You mostly use your powers for good,” Ian says firmly, bringing Jones to the present just in time for him to realize that he should be turning at the intersection. McConnick looms off in the distance, industrial and blocky.

“There aren’t a lot of bad things I can do,” he points out as he flicks his turn signal on.

Ian shrugs, tapping away at her phone. “You give me wifi. Everything else is incidental.”

Brandon laughs, turning onto the access road. “Are you sure that’s not just because we’re approaching a top research facility?”

“You give me good wifi that I don’t have to unlock, unlike McConnick’s.” Ian scrolls through something on her phone. “There are no less than seven locked wireless networks in McConnick, all of which seem to be labeled based on research emphasis. Communications, neuroscience, epidemiology, all that. Should we try and hack the neuroscience one?”

“I don’t think they’d keep anything secure on an obvious network like that. Are there any locked networks with unusual names?”

“Nothing that I can see on my phone, which isn’t the same as a no.”

“We can cross that bridge once we’re inside.” Brandon rolls down the window as he pulls his car to a halt. There’s a booth with a security guard inside, who looks supremely bored. Brandon flashes him his brightest smile. “Hi, I’m here to meet with Dr. McConnick.”

“Name and ID,” the guard says, rolling his shoulders back.

Brandon goes fishing in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Brandon Jones,” he says, flipping open his wallet and handing it to the guard.

He takes it and nods before his eyes slide over to Ian. “What about you?”

“Ian Hinck.” She holds out her own wallet, which Brandon hands to the guard.

The guard looks at Ian’s license photo and back at her. “This doesn’t look like you.”

Ian sighs. “Hold on,” she mutters, tossing her hair in front of her face.

“Look away for a second,” Brandon advises. It’s less out of respect for Ian and more because it’s downright weird to watch her shift.

“What are you doing?” the guard says suspiciously.

Ian flips her hair back. “I promise that’s my picture,” she says, although she looks uncomfortable. Brandon knows that she doesn’t like changing her face when she doesn’t have to or want to.

“What the fuck,” the guard says eloquently, and holds out both of their wallets. “That’d better really be you.”

“It’s really me,” Ian says, voice bright through gritted teeth.

“If we could go in now, that’d be great,” Brandon says. Ian flips her hair back in front of her face, like he knew she would. Brandon takes their wallets back.

“Yeah, ‘course,” the guard murmurs, and hits something. “You can go in now.”

Ian looks in front of the car and back at the guard, face back to normal. “There’s nothing in our way.”

“Nothing physically visible,” the guard answers. “Doesn’t mean you could’ve driven through.”

“Are you implying that there was a force field in front of our car?”

“I can turn it back on if you wanna try and drive through it.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thanks for your time,” Jones says. Before either the guard or Ian can react he starts forward again, driving towards the lab. “You know the plan, right?”

“We haven’t really talked about the plan.”

“Yeah, but you know what it is.”

Ian shrugs. “We don’t really change our plans a lot, I was assuming it was the standard.”

“Define standard,” Brandon says. There’s a lot marked “guest parking,” and he turns into it, glancing around for an empty space. “Just for my peace of mind.”

He’s not looking, but he can feel Ian roll her eyes. “You go in, talk business with Dr. McConnick about Maude, and I pretend to be your assistant and figure out a way to go out into the labs and snoop.”

“Traditional investigation at its finest,” Brandon says dryly, glancing at Ian as he pulls into a parking space. She grins at him, and he shakes his head. “Find some good stuff. Remember where the neuroscience labs are?”

“Of course,” Ian says, almost dismissively. Maude had given them internal directions and wisely not asked why they needed to find the neuroscience lab during their private interview with Dr. McConnick. “You ready to schmooze, Jones?”

Brandon catches his reflection’s eye in the rearview mirror and adjusts the collar on his shirt. “I’m always ready to schmooze, Ian."

As it turns out, Dr. McConnick isn’t the kind of woman who needs to be schmoozed. She’s effusive, dark-skinned and smiling, hair pulled back and donned in a bright red pantsuit. She’s already at the front desk when they arrive, and she holds out a hand as they approach. “Mr. Jones?”

“Dr. McConnick,” Brandon says warmly, shaking her hand. “It’s good to meet you. This is my assistant-”

“Therese,” Ian says as Dr. McConnick shakes her hand. “I’m shadowing the Captain today, but I unfortunately won’t be able to join the interview.”

“Internal security clearance,” Brandon explains. “Is there somewhere Ms. Brightwood can stay while we talk?”

“Of course, the entire atrium is yours.” Dr. McConnick gestures at a clump of chairs off to one side. “Hopefully we won’t be long?”

“I’d be surprised if it took longer than ten minutes,” Brandon says. Ian’s eyes flick over to him in a moment of understanding before she saunters over to the chairs and takes a seat. Brandon looks back at Dr. McConnick. “Where’ll we be talking today?”

“I have a conference room we’ll be using, if you just follow me.” Dr. McConnick starts back, walking briskly, and Brandon follows her. He can feel Ian’s eyes on them as Dr. McConnick scans some kind of keycard, and a door opens for them. “Back in here.”

“Lead the way,” Brandon says, and hopes Ian can figure out a way to get back here.

The conference room is two doors down in the hallway. It’s cozy, just two chairs and a table, and all of the coloring is warm. Brandon raises his eyebrows as he sits down. “Not to question your methods or anything, but compared to most conference rooms, this is…”

“Informal?” Dr. McConnick laughs as she sits opposite him. “We have some more utilitarian conference rooms for more utilitarian conferences, but this is a less formal conference, so I figured we could be in here.”

Brandon nods. “Thank you for meeting with me, by the way, especially on such short notice.”

“Well, when you called and said you were asking about Maude…” Dr. McConnick shakes her head. “It’s remarkably empty without her here. Is she all right?”

“She’s doing fine.” It’s technically not untrue, even if it’s a bit of an understatement of the situation. “She came to my team asking for support with a personal situation, but she wasn’t particularly forthcoming about what happened here.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much she can talk about. We have a lot of nondisclosure agreements and privacy standards.”

Brandon leans forward. “Dr. McConnick, can I speak plainly?”

Dr. McConnick frowns, but she nods. “Of course.”

“I believe that Dr. Garrett is lying to my team about something. I have no way of knowing what, or why, so I’m here to find that out so that we can help her.”

“I don’t think there’s much I can help you with,” Dr. McConnick says ruefully. She seems genuinely sorry, too. “If you can describe what she said, I can supplement it with everything I’m legally allowed to add, but beyond that there’s really nothing I can do.”

“The way Dr. Garrett describes it, she and a team of neuroscientists were approached by a private contractor several months ago. She had some kind of disagreement with the contractor, which resulted in her being fired, and-”

“Fired?” Dr. McConnick sits a little straighter. “Oh, no, Dr. Garrett left our company.”

Brandon pauses. “She quit?”

“She did.”

“See, that’s the kind of detail I wish she would’ve shared.” He sighs. “Can you describe the circumstances that led to that, as exactly as you can?”

“I didn’t have too much involvement in the research itself,” Dr. McConnick admits. “I can’t provide details about that. Maude was our primary contact with the contractor.”

“And you have no idea who the contractor was?”

“Not a clue. If circumstances really require it, we can probably find out, but they were very careful about their anonymity. The project was going incredibly well until Maude met with a representative a couple of weeks ago. When she came back, she was very clearly upset and asked to be taken off the project. Legally, she was required to stay and continue her research as long as she was with the company, so she left.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“None.”

“And have you had any contact with her or the contractor since then?”

“None.” Dr. McConnick sighs. “Mr. Jones, if I could’ve prevented one of my top researchers - one of my good friends - from leaving my company, I would have. But whatever she discovered or found upset her to the point that she quit, and I had no say in it.”

“Can you describe what she was researching? Dr. Garrett said that it had to do with language learning.”

“That’s more than she should’ve told you. The team is still actively working on the project, so there’s really nothing I can say to help.”

Brandon nods. It hasn’t been ten minutes, not even close, definitely not long enough for Ian to have found anything worth finding. He needs to stall. “You’ve already helped just by saying what you have. If there’s anything else, anything at all that you can do…”

“The most I can do is wish her the best. Oh, and-” Dr. McConnick reaches into her blazer pocket and pulls out a letter. “This is for Maude, it arrived yesterday.”

Brandon takes the letter and turns it over. The envelope is standard size and blank white, except for one corner, with a logo emblazoned: Defy Technologies. He frowns at it. “Did she ever work with Defy?”

“Not that I know of. I’m not sure why she’d be getting mail from them, I don’t believe she ever met Theo.”

Brandon glances up at her. “Theo?”

“Mr. Thornton,” she clarifies. “Technological development is a small world, and all of us CEOs know one another.”

Brandon knows Theo Thornton too, in the same abstract way he knows Bill Gates. Defy is a big name getting bigger with every passing day, and he doesn’t know why they’d be sending mail to Dr. McConnick to contact a former employee. Surely they could’ve approached Maude some other way.

“If you see Mr. Thornton, tell him Dr. Garrett got her letter,” Brandon says at last. “I’ll bring it to her later today.”

“Thank you. I also have some of her personal effects, things that she loaned out to other employees that she didn’t have time to pick up.” Dr. McConnick gets to her feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Of course,” Jones says, and settles into his chair as Dr. McConnick walks out. After a few seconds, he pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick text to Ian: _almost done, finish asap_.

Ian doesn’t answer, which probably means she’s busy snooping through incredibly secret scientific materials. It’s the most morally questionable thing they do as a team, and they all uniformly felt bad about it until the time Ian found blueprints for a bomb, and the office building it was planted in. After that, Brad had described it as “a worthy risk,” and Brandon knows the rest of the team agrees. It’s worth the chance of getting caught, or even facing legal troubles, to make sure the rest of the world is okay. As long as they don’t do it too often.

The conference room door opens again, and Dr. McConnick sets a box on the table. “It’s not much, but it’s something,” she says, voice soft. “Tell Maude that we miss her, and that she’s welcome to come back if she changes her mind.”

“I will.” Brandon places the letter in the box, carefully, with the Defy postmark facing the bottom. “Thank you again for meeting with me.”

“Thank you for your understanding. I’ll walk you out.”

Brandon nods and picks up the box, cradling it carefully in his arms. Dr. McConnick leads him out, back to the atrium, where Ian is thankfully sitting in the same seat they left her in. She looks up as they come out and stands up. “Everything done?”

“Everything’s done,” Brandon confirms. “Can you take this box?”

“Uh,” Ian says. “Sure?”

Brandon hands the box off to her, turns to Dr. McConnick, and holds out a hand. “I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

“I’ll be ready.” She shakes his hand. “It was good meeting you, Mr. Jones. Ms. Brightwood.”

“And you,” Ian says. “Ready to go, Captain?”

“Ready,” Brandon affirms, and they start back towards the doors. He waits until they’re out of the building and fifty feet away to ask, “Find anything?”

“Maude’s lab space is still totally empty, they haven’t replaced her yet. But I found a flash drive that looked like it was important. It was hidden away pretty well, so I’m willing to bet nobody will notice it’s missing.”

“Good work.”

“Thanks. What the fuck am I carrying?”

“Things that Maude left behind.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, we can say the hard drive was one of those things!” Ian shifts the weight of the box to one arm and goes digging in her pocket. She pulls out a flash drive and drops it in the box. “How about you, learn anything we didn’t already know?”

“Maude wasn’t fired,” Brandon says, a little grimly. “She quit.”

Ian raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, okay, that’s a little weird.” They stop at the car, and she sets the box down on top of it, looking contemplative. “Why do you think she didn’t tell us?”

“It makes it look like she did something wrong,” Brandon suggests as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. “If they fire her and then come after her, she’s a total victim. But if she quit…”

“Then the contractor has a reason to be pissed,” Ian finishes. Brandon unlocks the car, and Ian opens the back door and sets the box inside. “Although if she quit, maybe she has a reason to be pissed at them too.”

“I’m counting on it,” Brandon admits.

“You gonna tell her you know?”

“I haven’t decided yet. It depends on if it affects anything.”

Ian pulls her phone out as she slides into her seat. “Ben says all’s quiet on the bodyguarding front, so I think we’re good there.”

Brandon shuts his door and turns the key in the ignition. “Check in with Blood, see how the debugging is going.”

“Gotcha.”

“And good job spying today, Lady Danger.”

Just as expected, Ian’s face lights up at the codename. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we, Captain?”

Brandon grins as he pulls out of the parking space. He doesn’t need to look to know that Ian is grinning back. God, he loves his team.

“Quite the pair indeed,” Brandon says, and drives.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter includes depictions of non-graphic violence.

Ian and Jones get back three and a half games of cribbage after they leave - or, more accurately, Maude kicks Ben’s ass in cribbage three times and is on her way to a fourth when Ian and Jones get back. Ben turns as soon as he hears the door open and looks up at Jones. “Hey.”

Maude sets her hand down with a snap. “What did you find?”

“Well, Dr. McConnick sends her regards, for one,” Jones says. “So do your colleagues.”

“That’s what this is,” Ian adds; Ben cranes his neck to look around Jones and sees that she has a cardboard box of what looks like books, DVDs, a scarf, and some papers. “You apparently left a lot behind, so they took up a collection.”

“Including a letter sent to you from Defy Technologies. Know anything about that?”

Maude lifts her eyebrows. “No, although I’d be curious to see how they know me. Anything else of interest?”

Jones reaches into the box and pulls out a flash drive. “This was also in your lab.”

“Hidden,” Ian adds, a little unnecessarily. Ben almost wants to cringe - Ian’s a little uncomfortably obvious about the whole “spying” thing, sometimes, and he always wants to remind her that bragging about breaking the law isn’t the best idea.

“I’m surprised you found that,” Maude says. Ben glances at her in surprise. Across the last three and a half games, he’d gotten to watch Maude transform from a scared, stiff client into a genuinely brilliant person to talk to, but now she’s right back to being rigid. Something about this has her genuinely upset.

“We want to know if you’re comfortable with us looking at this drive,” Jones says. “It’d probably just be me and Kyle, and only the rest of the team if we find something incredibly important. Otherwise it’d be confidential.”

“Well, I’m not comfortable with any of this,” Maude says candidly. “But needs must, and all, so you have my permission.”

Ian nods. “I’ll run this over to the Bosman Cave,” she says, setting the box down on the table. “Be right back.”

“You get a lot of use out of this space,” Maude remarks as Ian leaves. “Do I get a tour?”

“We’ve got a lot of sensitive stuff in here, things that we can’t legally share out of confidentiality.” Jones shoves his hands in his pockets, expression shifting. Ben immediately recognizes it: it’s neutral, just a little worried, just a little kind. It’s one of Jones’s many “I’m interrogating you” faces. “Dr. McConnick told me that you quit.”

Maude’s lips thin out. “Yes.”

“You said you were fired.”

“Technically, I said we had a disagreement that ended with me leaving the lab. I didn’t say anything about how I left.”

“So you misdirected,” Ben says. He means it as a clarification, but judging by the way Maude’s eyebrows draw together, he thinks he might’ve missed something. “Can you tell us anything about why?”

“Why I quit or why I misdirected?”

“Either,” Ian says as she walks back in. She goes to stand next to Ben’s side of the couch, resting one hand on the back of it near his head. “Whatever you can.”

“I didn’t like the narrative as much when it involved me quitting.”

“We can help you more without a narrative,” Jones says, not unkindly. “It helps if we just know the situation.”

Maude sighs and leans forward, meeting Jones’s eyes. “I really can’t go into any more detail about why I left, because it involves top secret experiments, the kind of thing I can’t say in the public. But I discovered something I hadn’t previously known about the contractor, and I decided I wasn’t comfortable with working on that project anymore.”

“Dr. McConnick said you tried to quit the research team.”

“She did her best to let me, but Helena’s just as bound to legal contracts as the rest of us.” Maude shakes her head. “I couldn’t be reassigned or taken off, so my only way out was to leave altogether.”

“And you decided that was worth it?” Ian says, sounding legitimately surprised. Ben turns to look at her, and she’s frowning. “High-paying job, respectable position, helping the greater good?”

“I didn’t like the way they were using my greater good,” Maude says. “I swear everything else I’ve told you is what happened.”

“If you think of anything else you want to tell us, let us know,” Jones says. It’s diplomatic, but Ben can hear that it’s less of a suggestion and more of an order. Maude must hear it too, because she nods, and Jones turns to Ian. “We’re gonna check in with Bosman and Blood.”

“Mmkay,” Ian says, straightening up. Her fingers brush Ben’s shoulder as she leaves, too firmly to be an accident.

Ben ignores her, waiting for the door to close behind him to turn to Maude. “You okay?”

“I was happier before all this,” she says, a little wistful. “Ian was right, I had everything I could’ve wanted.”

“But you decided it was worth it to leave?”

“I thought it was,” Maude says. “It is.”

Ben looks at her for a long minute. “I’m glad it was worth it,” he says.

She smiles at him tersely and picks her cards back up. “Where were we?”

“I think you were about to skunk me.”

“Right.” Maude smiles again, her eyes going vaguely warm again, and Ben feels at ease. “How could I forget?”

#

As per Jones’s orders, they don’t go back to Maude’s house, even after it’s debugged. Instead, they go to Ben’s apartment - “You’ll have to sleep on the couch,” he says, apologetically, and she shrugs and says “Better safe on a couch than unsafe in my own bed” - and order a metric ton of Chinese food. Ben turns on some questionable reality TV show, more for background noise than entertainment, and waits.

It takes forty minutes after they get home before Maude turns to him, eyes him critically, and asks, “So what is it exactly that you do?”

Ben has to hand it to her: she held out significantly longer than most of the people he guards. Most people don’t even wait until noon to ask why the round-faced kid is guarding them; it took Maude almost a full day. Of course, Ben’s powers are a mystery to the general public, and that’s the way he prefers it. It just means that people are typically confused when he’s assigned to protect them.

“I keep people safe,” he answers, even though he knows he’s hedging around the question. “Didn’t you say you looked the team up?”

“For security,” Maude says, although it seems more automatic than defensive. “I could find records of everyone except you and Jones, and he already told me what he can do.”

“Are you sure the records are right?”

Maude frowns. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Ben shrugs. “Superhero reports are notoriously unreliable.”

“That they are,” Maude concedes. She reaches for one of the takeout cartons on Ben’s coffee table and takes a bite of fried rice, looking thoughtful. “I know you have the telepath, who wasn’t there today.”

“He works with some other local teams too.”

“And the one in Tennessee is your healer?”

“Healer is kind of a loose term.”

“How so?”

“Damiani can heal people, but his main thing is physiological manipulation.”

Maude’s eyes bulge. “He can do anything?”

“He can grab your shoulder and puncture your lungs in the process,” Ben says, even though Damiani has only had to do that kind of thing twice - that he knows about. It’s an unsavory thing, being able to hurt others so easily. Ben can relate. “Who else do you know?”

“Well, I know Guardian, of course.” Maude frowns. “And with him was Brad, who can change his body weight?”

“Body mass,” Ben corrects her.

“Of course. And that’s how he can fly?”

“Yeah, the science gets a little dodgy there.”

Maude snorts. “When isn’t the science of superpowers dodgy?”

“That’s fair.”

She nods. “And then…Ian can shape-shift, but only into human forms.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, even though that’s technically less than accurate. Ian can shift into anything she wants to, but human forms are less work. “Kyle?”

“Light manipulation. And Bloodworth does something involving time manipulation. Which just leaves you.” Maude sets the carton of fried rice back on the coffee table and looks at Ben critically. “I couldn’t find any stories that involved you using your powers.”

“I don’t get out in the public eye that much.”

“Most of you don’t, but even then I knew what your team could do. You’re an enigma, Mr. Moore.”

“Jones doesn’t use his powers in battle much,” Ben says. It’s not a technically untrue statement, but part of his brain whispers,  _ Now who’s misdirecting? _

He can watch Maude process that and come to her conclusion, eyes lighting as she does. “Really?”

“Really,” Ben says. It’s for the best if she thinks he’s in the seven percent. Really for the best if she never finds out otherwise.

“Hm,” Maude says, and takes another bite of fried rice. She doesn’t say anything after that, and Ben figures he’s more than likely in the clear.

He turns back to the TV. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Maude narrows her eyes at the screen. “Not a clue,” she says at last. “It’s a good distraction, at least.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees, and watches someone who might be a housewife or a supermodel or a fashion designer throw a shoe at someone who he suspects might be a government official. He’s not watching for the plot, anyways.

#

Huber approaches them as soon as they’re in headquarters the next morning. “Don’s back,” he says.

“That’s good,” Ben says agreeably. Brad is hovering behind Huber’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Don’s taking care of daily business,” Huber adds.

Ben looks between them. “You’re bored.”

“We are  _ desperately _ bored,” Brad answers. “We need something to do.”

“We’re not exactly doing much ourselves,” Maude points out. “We’re under house arrest. Headquarters arrest?”

“Headquarters arrest,” Ben agrees. “You’d still be trapped inside.”

“Yeah, but-” Huber slings an arm around Ben’s shoulders. “We’d be trapped inside with you, and that makes it better.”

“Aren’t we doing a team meeting this morning?”

“Bosman’s running late, so as soon as he’s here and we get that done, we’re meeting.”

“And after that we can play Mario Kart or something,” Brad says.

Ben’s about to say something about how they have better things to do than play Mario Kart - technically a lie, but one he’s willing to stick to - when Maude leans over his shoulder. “I will kick all your arses in Mario Kart,” she says seriously.

Huber’s eyes light up. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge, it’s a promise.”

“What are we promising here?” Jones says as he walks into the main space of headquarters.

Ben glances at him. “We might be having a Mario Kart tournament.”

“No, we’re definitely having a Mario Kart tournament,” Maude says with conviction. “Where can we go that has Mario Kart?”

“We have it here,” Ben says.

“Do you really?”

“We’ve got a lot of space, including some room for recreation.”

“And Mario Kart tournaments,” Brad adds. “Which we’ll win.”

Maude raises her eyebrows. “Who do you mean by ‘we,’ exactly?”

Huber backs away from Ben to sling his other arm around Brad’s shoulders. “Me and Brad, we’re gonna kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”

“I think we’re the other team by default,” Ben tells Maude.

“Us blondes have to stick together,” Maude answers, eyes sparkling.

Jones smiles, looking almost fond. “Your tournament can start as soon as-”

“Sorry I’m late,” Kyle’s voice says. Ben turns just as the doors close behind Kyle, who’s looking frazzled, and Ian, who’s looking significantly less frazzled. “Traffic, and then Don tried to get in touch and didn’t realize I was driving, and-”

“And you made it in one piece,” Jones says amicably. “Bloodworth’s out today, he’s liasing with the city bureau, so Bosman, you’ll be handling the computers on your own.”

“Thank you,” Kyle says fervently.

“Don’s in charge of business as usual. Ian, you and I are going to be touring McConnick just as visitors, no private meetings, no investigating.”

“No completely normal investigating,” Ian repeats. “Cool.”

“And the rest of you-”

“We’re playing Mario Kart,” Huber says, and starts towards the back room that has the Wii.

Ian’s jaw drops. “Wh- I want to play Mario Kart!”

“Tough,” Jones says. “They’re only playing Mario Kart because of house arrest, anyways.”

“Headquarters arrest,” Maude murmurs. “How long is that lasting again?”

“It depends on how slow things are around here. Which is pretty slow, this time of year.”

“So we get to play Mario Kart,” Brad says, and starts after Huber. “You guys coming?”

Ben glances at Jones. “Anything else, Cap’n?”

Jones waves him off. “Go win Mario Kart, you’re fine.”

“Let’s go,” Maude says decisively, and follows Brad’s retreating back. As soon as they enter a back hallway, she stops and looks at Ben. “Why do only team members get to call him Captain?”

“It started as an inside joke,” Ben admits. “It was Captain America at first, but Captain’s shorter. We were pretty surprised when it caught on with civilians.”

“Civilians find out most everything,” Maude answers. Ben’s pretty sure that’s another comment about powers, or something like that, but she doesn’t push it. “Which way?”

Ben grins. “We’re going to win,” he says, and leads the way towards the room with the Wii.

#

After six wins and four losses in Mario Kart tournaments, Maude sets her controller down and looks at Ben seriously. “We need to get out of this building before I go completely stir-crazy.”

Ben blinks. “I don’t think there’s-”

“Please, Ben,” she says imploringly. “There are only so many times I can beat Huber before it starts getting boring, and I’m bored.”

“I resent that,” Huber says, but he looks at Ben too. “We can check with Jones and see if we can go out to lunch?”

Ben frowns. “I’m not sure that’s-”

“It’d be all four of us,” Brad chips in. “Safety precautions. We’d be in public-”

“Public is exactly what we want to avoid-”

“-and Huber can shield us if we need it-”

“I can ask him myself,” Maude adds.

Ben shakes his head. “I’ll ask him,” he says, and can’t help but smile when Maude’s face lights up. “You’re right, this is ridiculously boring, and we can go somewhere close to headquarters.”

Jones is all for it when Ben texts him, and Brad suggests a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant with gnocchi that he swears by, and it’s shaping up to be a good lunch trip, and then-

“I want to go back to my house,” Maude says abruptly, as they’re about to leave.

Ben stops. “Why?”

“That box of things from McConnick,” she explains. “I’m - it’s a little uncomfortable, having it just in the headquarters. I’d only go long enough to drop it off.”

“ _ We’d _ only go long enough to drop it off,” Ben corrects her. “Bodyguard.”

“Of course.”

“I can-” he pulls out his phone and shoots off the fastest text possible to Jones. “We should be able to, if Blood debugged your house right.”

“Which he did,” Huber says. “How about we go on ahead and get our table and all that, and you guys just meet us when you have a minute?”

Ben nods. “See you in a few.”

Huber waves as he and Brad leave, going out to one of their cars. Maude shakes her head, a strange smile on her face. “Guardian,” she murmurs. “I thought he was an urban legend.”

“There’s really nothing urban about Huber,” Ben says. “He’s every bit the guardian, though. He chose his codename well.”

“The rest of you don’t really have codenames, do you?”

“Nah, we don’t really roll like that. We have some for internal use, but Huber’s the only one with a recognizable name.” Ben pauses. “And Jones, although he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“What’s your internal use codename?”

“Ian calls me Human Torch sometimes.” Ben checks his phone before Maude can ask about it and, blessedly, he has a text from Jones. “We can drop the box off as long as we’re just in and out.”

Maude blinks at him once, twice. “Okay,” she says at last. “Let’s go.”

#

Maude’s house is far enough from headquarters that Ben ends up texting their lunch orders to Huber and Brad, just so the food is ready when they get there. It’s in a neighborhood Ben didn’t know existed, full of squat one-story stucco houses and front yards that have rocks instead of grass lawns.

“California housing, huh?” Ben says as he pulls up outside Maude’s house, which is a pleasant shade of beige, complete with a tree in the middle of the rock lawn.

“It’s beautiful,” Maude says tonelessly. She climbs out of the car, taking the box of personal effects off her lap in the process, and stares up at it. “It’s strange, that I haven’t been here in two days.”

“Welcome home,” Ben offers, taking the box.

Maude flashes him a smile as she opens her purse. She pulls out a keychain. “We’ll be quick, I just wanted to get the box here, make sure nobody broke in.”

“No broken windows,” Ben offers as he follows her to the front door. “And Blood would’ve said if he noticed something out of place.”

“It all looks good to me,” Maude agrees. She unlocks the door and pushes it open. “You can just set it anywhere, I just- hold on.” She reaches over to the box and plucks out an envelope; Ben only just catches the name  _ Defy _ before it disappears into her purse. “I want to see what that’s about.”

Ben ambles over to what looks like a living room, with a soft-looking couch and television and immaculately-organized bookshelf, and sets the box down on the coffee table. “Nice place.”

“I hope I can come back soon,” Maude murmurs.

Ben doesn’t know what to say to that, so he glances around again. “Need anything else?”

After a second, Maude shakes her head and sighs. “No, I took everything I would need. I have enough clothes, personal effects…”

“You sure?”

“Sure.” Maude smiles, strained, and starts back towards the door. “Let’s go to lunch.”

Ben follows her back to the driveway. Maude busies herself with locking the door, and Ben looks up and down the street. It’s idyllic suburbia, really: identical houses, a kid drawing with sidewalk chalk in the street, a dark green sedan a few houses down, everything all the same. He’s not sure he could ever live here.

“Ready?” Maude says brightly.

Ben nods, starts towards the car. “Let’s get some lunch.”

#

Lunch is passably good. Ben doesn’t get the gnocchi, so he doesn’t understand why Brad is so excited about it. (Although Huber steals some of Brad’s gnocchi soup and waxes poetic pretty soon after, so maybe the gnocchi is just that good?) His pasta plate is pretty decent, at least, and they all agree to chip in for tiramisu for dessert.

Just after dessert gets there, Ben glances over at Maude, who’s staring down at the table. “What’s up?”

“The letter,” she says softly, and pulls it out of her purse. “I don’t understand why they sent it.”

“You could open it,” Huber suggests. “Just a concept.”

Maude smiles, barely, and opens the letter. Ben takes a bite of his tiramisu and watches her read it, her eyebrows slowly climbing.

“Well?” Brad says after a minute.

“They’re offering me a job,” Maude says incredulously. “A really, really good job.”

Ben frowns. “Are you interested?”

“Not in the least. I’ve heard some things about Defy…” she shakes her head. “They do good work, but they can do that work without me.”

“But they contacted you directly,” Huber points out. “That’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s only a big deal if I want the job, and I’m happier unemployed than I would be working for them. I’d rather keep my personal values intact.” And Maude, very calmly, rips the letter in half before stuffing it back in her purse.

Ben looks at Huber, who raises his eyebrows, and Brad, who shrugs and goes back to his tiramisu. Maude looks totally level, so he just nods at her, a touch awkwardly. “Good call.”

Maude smiles. “Thank you,” she says, and then, softer, “for everything, I mean. I’m sure I’m not the easiest person to guard-”

Ben grins. “You’re a dream come true. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Just eat your dessert before Brad steals it.”

“That’s not accurate,” Brad says. “I’d only steal it to give to Huber.”

“And I can steal things without Brad,” Huber adds. Brad fixes him with a look, and he quickly says, “Although I appreciate it when he steals things for me.”

“Good,” Brad says.

Maude smiles into her tiramisu. Ben hopes that she doesn’t think about the letter anymore. He doesn’t know anything about Defy beyond the occasional press release or press conference with Thornton, but they’re definitely not worth her time.

“I’m paying for lunch, by the way,” Maude says suddenly. Ben opens his mouth to say she doesn’t have to, really, and he can see Huber do the same, but she shakes her head. “No, you’re all being so accommodating and great, the least I can do is pay for your pasta.”

“Brad didn’t get pasta,” Huber points out.

“Too bad, I’m paying for his food anyways.” Almost as if on cue, the waiter materializes, and Maude hands over her credit card so smoothly that Ben’s almost taken aback. “Consider it an apology for beating you in Mario Kart.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ben says swiftly. “We won fair and square.”

Brad laughs and then checks his phone. His smile vanishes. “I think we need to head out now, Don says he needs backup at headquarters.”

“You guys can go ahead,” Ben offers. “We’ll be leaving in a couple minutes, don’t wait on us.”

Brad nods and pushes his chair back from the table. “Thank you for lunch,” he says to Maude.

She waves him off. “It’s lunch. Don’t worry about the bill, go out and be heroes.”

Huber grins as he stands up. “We’re pretty good at that,” he says.

Maude laughs. “That you are.”

Huber waves as he and Brad make their exit. Ben smiles after them and then turns to Maude. “You know you don’t have to buy us lunch or anything, right? You’re already paying us.”

“I’m not paying you for impromptu Mario Kart tournaments or distracting me from the reality of what’s going on.”

“Yeah you are, that’s part of the job.”

“Well.” Maude shrugs. “I’m paying for lunch out of the kindness of my heart, then. And you’ll just have to live with it.”

Ben smiles. “I think I can handle that.”

They’re quiet after that. Maude finishes her tiramisu thoughtfully. Ben pokes at his and thinks about gratitude and how he’s guarded a hell of a lot of people, but Maude might just be his favorite. If nothing else, she’s one of the easiest to keep entertained.

They leave as soon as Maude gets her credit card back. The restaurant really is a hole in the wall, in the middle of a busy street. Ben glances up and down the road as they walk-there are dozens of cars, green sedans and black trucks. He has to be careful to make sure they stop at his car and not someone else’s.

“I’m sure this is an exciting day for you,” Maude says dryly as she gets in the car.

Ben grins. “You kidding? Mario Kart and going out for lunch, it’s like a weekend in the middle of the day.”

Maude beams at him as he pulls out into the road. “I think I’ve figured out why you’re the bodyguard.”

She hasn’t, and he knows it, but Ben figures he’ll bite. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re the nicest one.”

“Am I?”

“I think so.”

“You’ve only really spent time with me,” Ben points out. “I mean, mostly.”

“But you’ve been great,” Maude says. Ben is struck, not for the first time, by how genuinely warm she is, how much she really means what she’s saying. “It’d be a lot harder knowing I’m in danger if you weren’t here.”

Ben smiles as he goes through an intersection. They’re only one turn away from headquarters, almost home, when he sees the sedan behind them.

It takes a minute for it to click, but he recognizes it. There was a green sedan parked outside Maude’s house, and outside the restaurant, and now there’s one behind him. And maybe it’s a coincidence, but there aren’t many green sedans in the world. They’re all the same color, the same dark forest green, and he’d bet they’re all the same make and model, too. Maybe it’s the same car. Either way, someone’s following them.

“Oh, you missed the turn,” Maude says. Ben doesn’t look away from the rearview mirror, but he can still feel the way Maude’s smile wanes. “Ben?”

Ben drops a hand to his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “We’re being followed,” he says, careful to keep his voice even. He unlocks his phone, holds it out, and changes lanes. “Call Huber.”

Maude takes his phone from his hand. Ben waits, long enough to see the sedan switch lanes too. At last, Maude says, “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

“Ben?” Huber’s voice crackles through. “What’s going-”

“Someone’s tailing us. Green sedan, definitely following us.” Ben pauses as Huber curses through his teeth. “Can you do a pickup?”

“Yeah, absolutely, where are we meeting?”

“We need somewhere close, somewhere that’s relatively empty.”

“The storage facility,” Maude blurts out. Ben’s eyes flick over to her; she looks pale, but there’s a set to her jaw that’s comforting, somehow. “There’s a StorageOne half a mile from here, down by-”

“Yeah, I know it!” There’s the sound of a car door slamming, and Ben recognizes Huber’s engine as it starts to life. “Ben, do you know where - what am I saying, you don’t know where it is.”

“Maude can give me directions.”

“Are you still being followed?”

Ben looks back to the rear-view mirror. He can still see the sedan. “Yep. I’ll circle the block a couple of times, meet you in five minutes.”

“Stay safe,” Huber says, and then hangs up.

Ben glances at Maude. “None of your neighbors happen to own a green sedan, do they?”

“None,” Maude says. She bites her lip. “You’re sure-”

“They were at your house,” he says, as kindly as he can manage. “And then they were at the restaurant, so they probably followed us there. Whoever this is probably had surveillance put on your house as soon as it was debugged, or maybe even when you went to the motel.”

“I’m in serious danger.”

“Probably, yes.”

Maude sighs heavily. Ben glances at her. “You’re going to be fine, though.”

“Am I?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

The edges of Maude’s mouth quirk up, not in a smile but in something close to it. “Thank you. And why do you need directions to the storage unit?”

“I’m not great with directions.”

“How not great?”

Ben looks around. “I don’t know where we are right now.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m actually not, can you get me to this storage facility?”

Maude shakes her head. “You’re astonishing.”

“Seriously, should I turn here-”

“Take the next left.”

The sedan follows them, even as Maude leads them through the maze of Los Angeles. It takes half a dozen turns to lose it, and even then, Ben’s pretty sure that they’re still being followed.

“It’s going to be directly on your right,” Maude says. He can see the lot, and thankfully, he can see Huber’s car. Other than that, it’s empty.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen,” Ben says. “I’m going to park, you’re going to get out, and Huber’s going to take you back to headquarters.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to lose our tail. I’m not letting whoever this is get back to headquarters.”

“Okay,” Maude says. She takes a deep breath as Ben turns into the lot. “We’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ben repeats, and slows to a stop by Huber’s car. “Go for it.”

Maude climbs out of the car, clutching her purse. “Drive carefully.”

“You can say that, but he’s going to get lost anyways,” Huber says.

“He will, won’t he?”

Ben rolls his eyes and gets ready to drive away, but before he can, he catches a flash of green in the rearview mirror. “Huber,” he starts, desperate, and that’s all the warning he can give before the bullets crack through the air.

Huber has his shield up in an instant, and he pushes Maude behind his back. Ben ducks down, and after a minute, opens the car door and crawls out. He looks over his shoulder in time to see the sedan round a corner, someone leaning out the passenger side with a big fuck-off gun.

“They’re going to keep shooting,” Huber yells. “Ben-”

“On it,” Ben yells back. The sedan is still near the parking lot, in shooting range, but that just means they’re in Ben’s range. “Stay down!”

He hears Maude shout something, but he can’t make out words, he’s too busy running towards the sedan. They’re driving away from him, so it takes them a minute to notice him, but he spots the exact moment that the gunner turns towards him. The tires are screeching. The blood in his veins is boiling.

Ben throws a hand forward.

The fire springs out without hesitation, coiling in a bright spiral towards the front tire of the car. The rubber puddles beneath the wheel instantly, and the driver and gunner start shouting. Ben immediately aims a second blast towards the back tire. The tire-less axel slams into a slick of melted rubber, and the car  _ flips  _ \- not dramatically, not flying through the air, just tumbles onto its side and then its roof. Just the screech of metal on pavement and then silence.

He doesn’t look in the car or check on the people inside - that’s not his jurisdiction, and if he gets any closer to that scorched-rubber smell, he knows he’ll be sick. Instead he jogs back over to Huber’s car. “You guys good?”

“We’re good,” Huber answers, voice muffled. He and Maude are still on the ground, but his shield vanishes in a blink. Ben offers a hand and Huber takes it, letting Ben pull him up. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks,” Ben says, and offers his hand to Maude.

She stares up at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed. “I thought you were one of the seven percent.”

“I might’ve misdirected.”

Slowly, Maude reaches up and takes his hand. She blinks as soon as her fingers clasp his. “Your hands are cold.”

“Yeah,” Ben says. He could tell her about being thirteen and accidentally setting his front lawn on fire, or about all of the burn marks on the furniture in his childhood bedroom. He could explain the counseling he went to, ridiculously expensive but ridiculously worth it, the reason he can go through his life without burning everything around him. He could say that it wasn’t easy, figuring out that fire could be good, could be kind. But that’s not what matters. All that matters is that he isn’t burning her.

Maude gets to her feet and looks at the car. “Are they-”

“That’s a bureau thing,” Huber says. “It’s lucky Bloodworth’s already over there.”

“Yeah, I’ll call him after I call Jones.” Ben turns to Maude. “You need to get back to headquarters. Keep your head down.”

“I don’t think I could keep my head any more down after this.”

“We’d better go,” Huber says. “Maude, you ready?”

“Ready.” Maude goes to the passenger side of Huber’s car and meets Ben’s eyes. “I think I really understand why you’re the bodyguard now.”

“Because I’m the nice one,” Ben says. He can still smell the burning rubber. “Be careful?”

“We will,” Huber promises.

Ben waits until they’re out of the parking lot to dial Jones’s number. Jones picks up after the first ring. “Ben, Brad texted me, what’s-”

“We have an incident,” Ben says, as delicately as possible.

There’s a pause. “On a scale from ‘incident report because of a stubbed toe’ to ‘calling actual law enforcement,’ what kind of incident?”

Ben looks around, from the empty lot to the green sedan, still resting on its roof, and leans against the side of his car. “Let’s just say we’re gonna have a lot of paperwork.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains nongraphic descriptions of animal testing and animal death

When the silence is finally too thick to stand, Kyle turns to Maude. “Is there anything you need? Can we get you-”

Maude shakes her head, tight-lipped, and Kyle falls silent immediately. After a minute she sighs. “I’m sorry, I know you’re trying-”

“You’ve had a long day,” Kyle guesses. He guesses right, judging by the way Maude’s shoulders curl in. He’s aware, almost painfully, that everyone’s watching them: Don in one corner, Brad in another, Ian sitting on the arm of the couch, Blood probably listening from the makeshift kitchen. The only person not looking at him is Huber, who’s sitting next to Maude; it’d taken Maude almost a full hour to let go of where she’d been clutching his elbow.

“I know you’re probably used to it,” Maude says quietly. “Even if you’re not out there, actually in trouble, you know that you’re living a dangerous life. But I’m not part of this, I’ve never been in the line of fire, either bullets or-” she grimaces. “Well. Actual fire.”

“You don’t get used to it,” Brad says. His eyes are on Huber, but they slide over to Maude. “It’s better to be scared, when things like this happen.”

“Keeps you on your toes,” Kyle adds.

Maude smiles, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I think I could use some time not on my toes, actually.”

The front door to headquarters swings open forcefully. Kyle smells something burnt and chemical, and he knows even before he turns that it’s Ben. He looks tired, but still very much in one piece, so Kyle’s not about to complain.

Ian jumps to her feet. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Ben says, a little brusquely. “Jones was finishing up with the bureau when I left, he should be here in a couple minutes.” His eyes land on Maude. “You good?”

Maude nods. “Who are the bureau?”

“Los Angeles County Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.” Ian perches back on the arm of the couch, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “They’re the ones who handle all the paperwork, keep track of who’s with what teams, all that.”

“I was at the office when Jones called me,” Blood says as he comes out of the kitchen. “We have to meet with them every few months, and today’s meeting lined up with your adventure.”

“They’re good people,” Ben adds, going to sit between Maude and Ian on the couch. Maude shifts closer to him as soon as he’s seated comfortably. “They have a hard job.”

“How bad was it?” Kyle asks. He works with the bureau more than Ben, most of the time, and he’s seen paperwork filed for some nasty incidents. He’s heard the packet they have to fill out for supervillain attacks takes an entire tree’s worth of paper, or hours and hours of typing. He completely believes it, too.

Ben shrugs. “Could’ve been worse. They probably have to resurface the road, but no buildings were destroyed. The bureau arrested the two people in the car, although they said there wasn’t a lot of hope for interrogation.”

“Never is,” Brad mutters. Kyle has to agree; the bureau does a lot of things right, but interrogation has never been one of them.

“Why have I never heard of the bureau?” Maude frowns. “They’re not a secret government branch or anything, are they?”

“No, they’re just not on most people’s radar since they’re local administration. They’re like-” Ian lifts a hand, palm parallel to the floor. “Imagine the mayor’s office is on this level. The bureau’s here.” She moves her other hand a couple of inches underneath the first. “And nobody pays attention to the mayor.”

“I can’t even name the mayor,” Ben mutters.

Ian grins. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Jones is here,” Don says, almost without inflection. Kyle turns to the door just as it swings open.

Jones strides in and looks at Ben. “The good news is, the bureau’s not going to make us pay out of pocket for anything. There’s enough traffic camera footage to confirm that it was the same car following you from the restaurant to the storage lot, and the representatives I talked to said you were justified in the actions you took.”

“What’s the bad news?” Huber says.

“The driver and the shooter, according to everything they could find, technically don’t exist. Facial recognition didn’t bring up anything.” Jones shakes his head. “They had no fingerprints.”

“No fingerprints?” Kyle repeats, leaning forward. “As in, their prints were burned off?”

“As in, there’s no proof that they were ever there. Could be genetic engineering, could be the result of a superhuman that the bureau doesn’t know about.”

“Do all superhumans have to register with the bureau?” Maude says. Kyle wonders if it’s shock, curiosity, or a mixture of both.

Huber shakes his head. “Only if you’re on a team, or if you become a prominent solo vigilante.”

“Were you prominent?”

“I was close.”

“Did the car bring up any leads?” Ben asks, eyes still fixed on Jones.

Jones shakes his head. “If it did, the bureau needs some time to chase them down. We’ll get updates as the bureau figures things out, but for now we need to work some things out on our end.”

Kyle looks at Maude. Or, more accurately, everyone in the room looks at Maude.

Maude clears her throat. “In light of recent events, I’ve decided, fuck non-disclosure agreements. I’d rather be alive and breaking the law than dead obeying it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Huber says.

She smiles at him before turning to Jones and locking eyes with him. “Three months ago, McConnick Research and Development was approached by a private contractor to research language learning processes, and how we could speed those up. We started designing a microchip based on what we knew. It was all very, very tentative, but the theory was that if we could speed up vocabulary learning, then it’d be easier to learn a new language.”

“Did it work?” Kyle asks despite himself. He’s sure it’s the wrong question to ask, but it’s  _ fascinating _ research, with some very real consequences.

Maude makes a soft, bitter noise. “We don’t know. Or we shouldn’t have known. It was supposedly all theoretical. We had to email the contractor our designs once a week, but as far as we knew, it was just a way of checking progress. I didn’t think- none of us thought-”

“Dr. McConnick said you met with a representative in person,” Jones says. “What did you find?”

“Nothing, at first.” Her breath hitches. “It was just a regular meeting, we talked about the progress and some of our plans for the future. And then the representative left, but she left a lab book behind. Something clearly marked to do with my research, so I thought she left it for me. And I looked in it, and they-” she looks away from Jones for the first time, down to her knees.

Huber moves a hand to her shoulder. “Take your time,” he says quietly.

Maude shakes her head. “I’ve taken too much time, not saying this at first. They had been building the microchips - I don’t know how, I don’t know where they could’ve gotten the materials, but they were modifying them as we worked and implanting them in animals. It sounded like they picked up strays off the street - cats, dogs, anything they could find. And they put our microchips in their brains.”

“Testing them,” Jones says quietly.

“Most of them didn’t survive. Their brains couldn’t handle the neural load, they- they...”

“You don’t have to,” Ian says. “Describe it, I mean. If it’s too much for you.”

Maude takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “I imagine you get the picture anyways. I was horrified, of course, but I didn’t say anything when the representative came back. I just gave her the book, decided I was going to try and leave peacefully, but I think she figured out what was going on. I couldn’t look her in the eye.”

“So you tried to quit,” Kyle says, the pieces slowly coming together. “But they knew that you had private information about something they didn’t want anyone to know about-”

“-so they’re trying to kill me,” Maude finishes. She laughs, a little mirthlessly. “Those are the consequences of a strong moral fiber, I suppose. Gets you in trouble.”

“Keeps you honest,” Jones says. “And you have no idea who it was?”

“None. They have to be rich, though. If they can afford to pay us what they did, and manufacture microchips on a weekly basis, this isn’t some backyard crackpot.”

“And they’ve already proven they mean business, so we need to get you somewhere safe, fast. Which brings us to…” Jones turns to look at Kyle. “Bosman. Whatcha got?”

Kyle leans forward. “I’ve been in touch with a couple of people, but our best bet is looking like SourceFed. They’d probably ask you to work while you were staying with them, but they’ll keep you safe, and they’re good people.”

“Work?” Maude blinks at him. “Work how?”

“Well, they do a lot of covert research, especially in the LA area.”

“Espionage?”

“Don’t call it espionage,” Kyle says, only realizing a moment later that Jones and Brad said it along with him.

Maude stares. “Is that their motto?”

“Might as well be,” Brad mutters. “It’s espionage, but it’s all morally sound stuff. They do what we do, just a little less actively.”

“They keep tabs on suspicious people and groups, keep track of weird police reports, and reach out to local teams if they think something needs looking into.” Jones looks at Kyle. “You already contacted them?”

Kyle nods. “They said they wanted to run a background check, but I think they could speed that process up if they knew the details of the situation.”

“Give them the details, get in touch. Try and arrange something later tonight, so we can figure out if that’s a viable option. Everyone else, you’re free to stay and go as you choose, except for Ben and Maude. You guys are under house arrest.” Nobody moves for a long second, so Jones claps his hands. “Aaaand break.”

Kyle gets to his feet and starts towards the computer lab. He’s almost done decrypting Maude’s drive - it doesn’t look like anything important yet, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just backups of the microchips - but he needs to get back in touch with SourceFed. He’s already been emailing with Bashor, so he has an in, and SourceFed is careful but not heartless. He knows that they’ll meet, just as long as he presents the situation right.

“Kyle!”

He turns around. Ian is hurrying towards him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Okay, so-” Ian holds out a hard drive. “I might’ve stolen this from McConnick earlier today.”

Kyle looks from the drive to Ian. “Might’ve?”

“I definitely stole this from McConnick earlier today,” Ian says, unfazed. “Jones had to leave our guided tour early, so I got to explore. And I got something that seems really confidential.”

“How confidential?”

“Don’t wanna go into details.”

Kyle lifts his eyebrows. “So the kind of confidential that could bring us legal trouble?”

Ian waves him off. “This isn’t the original, this is a duplicate, don’t worry about it. Point is, I think there could be some interesting stuff on here, and I wanted you to have it.”

“Does Jones know?”

“Jones knows, you know. I think that’s it, unless he told someone.”

Kyle sighs and takes the hard drive. “I’ll take it, but be careful. One of these days you’re going to get caught.”

Ian mumbles something that Kyle doesn’t catch, but before he has the chance to ask about it, she flashes him a smile. “Thanks, Bossy. Have fun cracking that.” She heads off before he has the chance to ask what she means, and he looks down at the drive in his hand.

“Where did she get a duplicate?” Kyle mutters to himself as he starts towards the computer lab. It doesn’t matter, really - his real priority is still SourceFed. Is still Maude, really.

#

“It’s a complete miracle that you’re not blind yet,” Brad says.

Kyle jumps. He hadn’t heard the door open, and when he glances at the clock on the computer, he realizes that it’s three hours later than he thought it was. Or, well, than it was when he sat down. He’s been pretty incessantly emailing SourceFed trying to coordinate with them and Jones, and since it’s all time-sensitive, he doesn’t have time for, well. For time.

He also realizes, a little belatedly, that the room is probably really dark to Brad. “Hold on,” he says, and disperses the light in the room a little more evenly. He’s so used to being able to be his own dimmer switch that he forgets sometimes that not everyone sees the world the way he does. It’s not like he can see in the dark, but he can change the dark enough to see in it. That means he sits in a lot of pitch-black rooms and still see. Brad can’t.

“You don’t have to change anything, I’m just making sure you remember the rest of the world exists.” When Kyle turns around, Brad’s leaning against the doorframe. “Jones, Ben, and Maude are getting ready to meet up with SourceFed, Ian’s ordering pizza, and I’m pretty sure whatever else you’re working on can wait.”

“I’m actually still talking to SourceFed.” Kyle drums his fingers against his knee, feeling a little twitchy, a little nervous. It’s technically true that he’s emailing with SourceFed, but he’s also trying to decrypt Ian’s drive, which is a slower process than he expected. And of course, since that’s slow, it might be slowing down his communications, which makes him even more nervous. He can’t help it; he’s sort of painfully aware that he’s in charge of making sure Maude is somewhere that she won’t get killed. “They’re not a fan of how vague I have to be with all of the details.”

“The animal stuff?”

“Yeah, they’re not happy that I can’t say anything.”

“But they’ll take her?”

“Probably. I don’t think they’d still be talking to me if they wouldn’t hire her.” And he still has a couple backups in mind, just in case, but SourceFed is the only choice in Los Angeles. He’s sure Maude would go to San Francisco or Dallas if they needed her to, but it’s easiest this way, best this way.

“Make sure you come out of your cave when the pizza gets here,” Brad says, although Kyle knows it’s by rote. Inevitably, Kyle will forget to look at a clock and only remember when the pizza is cold and everyone’s in the middle of the third round of a Jackbox party. And so it goes.

“I will,” he promises anyways, and looks back at the computer. No new emails; he can’t decide if it’s a good sign or not.

“Bye, Kyle,” Brad says. Kyle can hear feet shuffling, a couple of footsteps, and then Brad says, “Oh, hey, did you need-”

“I’ll just be a second,” another voice says. Kyle barely has time to turn in surprise before Maude appears in the doorway where Brad was.

Kyle leans back in his chair. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say thank you, before I left.” Maude smiles, and even though it’s thin, it’s genuine, and the room feels warmer for it. “I know you’ve been busy, making arrangements for me, and I haven’t had the chance to say it yet. So thank you.”

Kyle blinks. “Of course. I hope it works out. I’ve worked with Sam Bashor before, he’s a good guy. You should be good to go.”

“And that’s thanks to you.”

“That’s thanks to a lot of things. I’m part of a team, remember?”

“Believe me, I’ve been thanking everyone.” Maude’s smile widens just a tick. “You’ve all been wonderful, and I’ll miss you. I’ll try to visit.”

“We’ll be happy to have you back.”

“Then I’ll definitely have to come.” Some of her exuberance fades. “I hope you don’t think less of me.”

Kyle startles a little. “Why would I think less of you?”

“You more than anyone were asking about all of the ins and outs of why I left, and it was… unsavory, to say the least.” Her smile drops altogether, and her lips press into a thin line, just for a second. “I hope you understand why I… withheld what I withheld.”

“Confidentiality is important,” Kyle points out. “So is your personal comfort level. You should stay within those bounds, whatever they are for you. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you told us.”

“I’m glad I am too.” Maude’s eyes flick to his computer screen. “I suppose I should leave you to finish whatever it is you’re doing, and I have to leave, anyways.”

“Safe travels,” Kyle says. Maude flashes that brilliant smile one more time and leaves, but Kyle can still feel its warmth lingering. It’s almost like a physical body in the room, like everything really is two degrees warmer.

“Huh,” Kyle says, and goes back to decrypting the hard drive.

#

“You lost track of time again,” Don says, a while later. It’s not a question.

Kyle glances at the clock. It’s been an hour and a half, give or take. “I missed the impromptu pizza party,” he guesses. It’s also not a question.

“We saved some for you.” Don holds out a paper plate as Kyle turns around. “Gotta eat, Bosman.”

“I remember to eat,” Kyle protests, even though that’s maybe an exaggeration sometimes. He leans forward and takes the plate anyways. “Thanks, Don.”

“Jones and Ben are on their way back.”

“Maude?”

“Took enough of her stuff with her that she can stay with SourceFed for the night. They’ll be going back to get the rest of her things sometime tomorrow.” Don frowns and leans in; Kyle realizes, a few seconds after he probably should’ve, that Don’s looking at the computer screen. “What are you doing?”

“Ian brought some stuff back from McConnick,” Kyle answers, and remembers too late that Ian said it was sort of a secret. “She asked me to decrypt it, and it’s taking longer than I thought.”

Don’s eyebrows raise. “Too bad you don’t have any way to make computers run faster.”

“Yeah,” Kyle mumbles.

“Kyle,” Don says patiently.

Kyle pauses. Make computers run faster. He can’t do that, but… “You mean Jones.”

“You need to take a break.”

“No, I’m good, I just forget sometimes that he can do that.”

“You still need a break.” Don shakes his head. “Eat your pizza. I’ll send Jones in when he gets here.”

“Thank you,” Kyle says. He waits for Don to turn and leave before he starts eating the pizza. It’s a little cold, but he’s not about to complain.

He was right about the first drive. It’s all Maude’s backups, with microchip blueprints and research notes. It’s nothing too interesting, but this new drive looks like it could be. There’s a lot more information, for one, and the encryption is heavier. Maude’s looked like… well, like it was done by someone who doesn’t know a lot about encryption but learned for the sake of privacy. This is security encryption, and Kyle’s going to make sure that it’s not secure anymore.

He’s still eating pizza in the dark, mulling it over, when Jones says, “If I’m talking to you, I’m turning on the light.”

“Go for it,” Kyle says.

Jones flicks on the lightswitch. “What’d you need me for?”

Kyle pauses. “Can you… come here?”

“I am here.”

“No, I mean closer to the computer desk.”

“Why-” Jones looks at the computer, and understanding dawns. “Do you need me in here to make your computer run faster?”

“Maybe.”

Jones shakes his head. “Using me for my powers,” he mutters, but he comes and leans against the desk anyways. “What are you still doing here? Everyone else is heading home.”

“Everyone? What about paperwork?”

“Ben and Blood have that covered. And I’m helping, after I’m done with whatever this is.”

“It’s what Ian got from McConnick.” At Jones’s blank look, he adds, “She said she snagged this somehow earlier today.”

“Right.” Jones snaps his fingers. “How that girl gets these things, I’ll never understand.”

“I think she might have a latent superpower. Changes shape, compels people to give her what she wants.”

Jones laughs. “Are you sure me being here isn’t going to just make the encryption more thorough?”

Kyle shrugs. “It crossed my mind, but honestly, I think it’s a risk worth taking. If you don’t make this work in the next two or three minutes, then you can leave.”

Jones nods, and they fall into comfortable silence for a handful of seconds. Kyle takes another bite of pizza and stares at his screen. He’s been looking at it for long enough that he genuinely can’t say whether Jones is speeding things up or slowing them down. All he knows is that this can wait until tomorrow, if it has to, and that’s a huge decrease in pressure from trying to help Maude.

“So Maude’s okay?” he says, for lack of a better conversation starter.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” Jones tips his head back to look at the ceiling. “SourceFed’s going to hire her, and there’s a degree of protection that comes with that. It’s a lot harder to attack a member of a superhuman collective.”

“Especially if you want to get away without consequences. Any word from the bureau?”

“Nothing. I’d be surprised if we ever heard from them again.”

The bureau has a nasty habit of only calling with good news. No news is synonymous with bad news, and bad news is synonymous with the world ending. Kyle shakes his head. “That’s a mess.”

“They’re always a mess, but they do what they need to do.”

“At least they can protect Maude, now that she’s with SourceFed.”

“Exactly. I’m glad she landed on her feet. I was worried about her.”

Kyle smiles to himself. “Yeah, seven-percenters have to stick together, right?”

Jones snaps his head over to stare at him. Kyle slowly lifts his eyes to meet Jones’s. “You didn’t notice?”

“She’s in the seven percent?”

“Yeah, it’s really subtle. I’d be surprised if she even noticed it.”

“But you noticed.”

“She can modify room temperature,” Kyle explains. “I don’t know the extent of it, but it seems like when she’s happier, it gets warmer. Not much, but enough that you can notice if you’re alone in a room with her.”

Jones continues to stare, although it’s less at Kyle and more through him. Kyle can almost see him replaying the last couple of days in his head, thinking through them, before he says at last, “Son of a bitch, I see it now.”

Kyle’s about to come up with an answer to that when the computer pings loudly. He and Jones both turn to it, and there’s an open folder. A decrypted folder.

“Thanks for your magic,” Kyle says, and opens one of the files. There’s a lot of information to sift through, and he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to get through it all tonight, but maybe he can find the important stuff.

“What’d the drive from yesterday have, anyways?” Jones asks, leaning towards the computer screen.

“Nothing important, not like this.” This - it looks like financial dossiers, and that’s something they can work with. “I think this is a paper trail.”

“Of the payment?”

“We might be able to find out who our mystery contractor is.” Kyle scrolls through the file as quickly as he can. He’s done this kind of thing before - private investigation is possibly the biggest thing they do, here at the Alliance, and he knows how these things go. There’s not a lot to go on, but there looks like there’s a name. “Does the name Breakpoint Development mean anything to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Well…” Kyle opens a new window in Chrome and types the name in. “When in doubt, right?”

“Google makes the world go round,” Jones says. Kyle can hear the smile in his voice.

“It looks like…” Kyle clicks on Breakpoint’s website. “They’re a research and development company hosted in West Virginia.”

“Not exactly the home of cutting edge technology.”

“They seem like they’re a small lab, but…” he clicks on a tab at the top. “They have a parent company.”

Jones leans in. Kyle holds his breath. The webpage redirects, almost instantly, to the Defy Technologies homepage.

“Huh,” Kyle says. The URL is right, and it looks like the connection is secure. Either Breakpoint is lying, or they really do work for Defy. “So it was Defy?”

“The letter,” Jones mutters.

“Letter?”

“Defy sent Maude a letter through McConnick’s lab, Ben said it was a job offer.”

“Why would Defy offer her a job?”

“Hush money.”

“Hush-” Kyle looks at the website again. If Breakpoint really hired McConnick to do their research, then that means Defy had been the main contractor. And if Maude tried to leave, the fastest way to get her quiet and complacent again was to get her to work for Defy. “You think they were going to pay her off.”

“I think they were trying to keep an eye on her.” Jones shakes his head. “All the surveillance, the job offer, the shooting - they just wanted her quiet, one way or the other.”

“So Defy is killing animals to test microchips?”

“Maude said that the contractor would have to be wealthy. Who’s wealthier than one of the biggest technology companies in the nation?”

Kyle leans back. The Defy logo stares at him, and after a couple seconds, he decides he can’t look at it anymore. He looks at Jones. “Okay, so what do we do?”

Jones shakes his head. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

“But we need to tell everyone.”

“We can’t.”

Kyle starts. “What do you mean, we can’t? Shouldn’t everyone know?”

“Maybe later, but not now.”

“Jones-”

“Kyle.” Jones meets his eyes evenly, keeps his voice low. “Everything we just said is speculation, and not just regular speculation. We’re accusing Defy Technologies - we’re accusing Theo Thornton, a household name - of some incredibly unethical business practices. That’s not the kind of thing you can throw around before you’re absolutely sure. I don’t want there to be any risk of retaliation, either as a lawsuit or as another unmarked sedan with a gunner in it. Not against any of us.”

Kyle looks back at the computer screen. “You want me to vet it,” he guesses.

“I want nothing more than for you to debunk it,” Jones admits. “This isn’t the kind of thing we normally deal with, and I’d be happier if we didn’t deal with it.”

“But?”

“But if we’re already here, and you already have records…” Jones gestures at the computer screen. “You don’t have to do it right now, but in between our team projects, can you verify this? Somehow?”

Kyle sighs. He’s done things like this before - all of them have, and none of them ever like it. Keeping secrets from the team sucks, even if Jones is right. At best, any kind of false accusation could discredit the team; at worst, well, whoever this is has already proven that they’ll resort to extremes to keep this quiet.

“I’ll keep you posted,” he says.

Jones squeezes his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, and Kyle hears,  _ I know what I’m asking you to do, and I’m sorry. _

Kyle glances up one more time. “But what are we going to tell Ian?”

Jones pauses and takes his hand back. “Say there was nothing on it?”

“She won’t accept that.”

“Say there was nothing important?”

“What if I just told her the truth?”

Jones frowns. “I don’t follow.”

“We can tell everyone the truth.” Kyle shrugs. “We found something, we’re not sure what it is, it could be serious, be ready for things to go wrong once we do find out. We don’t have to be any more specific than that.”

“And it’d be safer for everyone to know that things could go wrong,” Jones muses. “We can tell them tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better call it a night.” Kyle stretches his shoulders back. “You can go and do paperwork.”

“Thanks,” Jones mutters. “Get some rest?”

“Will do, Cap’n.”

Jones, predictably, pulls a face. “None of that,” he mutters as he leaves, and Kyle can’t help but smile at that. It’s always fun to mess with Jones.

But he catches sight of the Defy logo again, and his smile fades. Defy is a big name, and this is a big deal. It’s not often that the team comes up on a real, actual case. The Alliance does a lot of things, but typically, they don’t fight supervillains, they don’t get shot at, and they definitely don’t discover potential conspiracies relevant to major national companies. But there are a lot of documents for Kyle to go through on this drive, and a lot of time for him to do it.

“I’m gonna figure you out,” Kyle murmurs to himself. He closes the Defy webpage and looks at the folder, at the file that leads to Breakpoint. “You’re not going to get to hurt anyone else.”

The file doesn’t answer. Kyle shuts off the computer. “I’m going to figure this out,” he says again to the empty room as he gets to his feet. He barely remembers to shut the light off before he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the (temporary) end of regular updates, as I'm going to be working on part two soon. Make sure you subscribe to [the series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/585946) to get updates when I add new stories - or, if you want some advance warning, you can find me on twitter @jazfiute or tumblr @pervincetosscobble! See you guys next update!


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